


Love Is

by IWasHereMomentsAgo



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWasHereMomentsAgo/pseuds/IWasHereMomentsAgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal compares his Happily Ever After to the happily ever afters in books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is

**Author's Note:**

> There may also be a Laure-Talking-About-How-She-Is-Definitely-Not-In-Love-With-Madoka update coming to what could become the sappiest series in the world but I haven't really been able to write in about a year so I'm making no promises.

Love is not like it is in the story books. There are a lot more awkward limbs and words and embarrassing noises mid-kiss which make me blush and which make him chuckle. There’s no happy ending, but rather an ending which goes on and on and up and down which no story prepares you for. There’s not even really a beginning - maybe a vague conversation or an encounter with a stranger you won’t even realise was the prologue until you’re halfway through the book. There’s no sudden _fall_ , no realisation hitting you from nowhere; rather, it is a slow dive and once you’re under there’s no seabed to hit to keep you cradled in true love - you just keep sinking and rising and coming up for air and repeating the process all over again while trying to get on with jobs and friends and attempting to catch your breath every spare moment you get. And the books don’t tell you how it _hurts,_  how love can tangle with every other emotion a person can feel until it _aches_.

There are no clever metaphors to make you brave, there is no plan to keep you in check, no clear end and beginning to paragraphs and chapters and volumes, not even really in retrospect.

There is only now, there is only how he looks more beautiful than the most beautiful sentences; and there is ten minutes from now when he’ll wake up and speak more cleverly than anything I’ve read; and there is eight hours from now when he’ll come home from work cold and swearing and make my heart more alive than ink and paper could ever dream to be.

Love is not like it is in the story books. It is so much more.            


End file.
